


Darren the Red-Nosed Reindeer

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have a surprise for you!”</p><p>“For the hundredth time, Darren, you coming over is not a surprise.” Chris opens the door, and then falls silent, staring at Darren… Before starting to laugh. “What are you—?” Chris gasps, slumping against the doorframe, and Darren just grins at him. There’s a red, flashing bulb on his nose, and he’s wearing reindeer antlers, and—</p><p>“I brought you a poinsettia.” Darren holds up the red flowers proudly. “Your house was looking gloomily unfestive, so I decided I would help.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darren the Red-Nosed Reindeer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



> Written for [Mandy](alittledizzy.tumblr.com), for my 25 Days of Ficmas thing. <3

It gets dark so early in the wintertime, and the unusual amount of clouds and rainfall recently make the sun disappear even sooner than it would otherwise. Chris likes it—night is his favorite time of day, and he doesn’t mind it being longer. It’s still early evening (and already splendidly, wonderfully dark) when there’s a knock at his door.

“ _Chris_ ,” Darren calls in a sing-song, and Chris rolls his eyes as he pads to answer it. “I have a surprise for you!”

“For the hundredth time, Darren, you coming over is  _not_  a surprise.” Chris opens the door, and then falls silent, staring at Darren… Before starting to laugh. “What are you—?” Chris gasps, slumping against the doorframe, and Darren just grins at him. There’s a red, flashing bulb on his nose, and he’s wearing  _reindeer_  antlers, and—

“I brought you a poinsettia.” Darren holds up the red flowers proudly. “Your house was looking gloomily unfestive, so I decided I would help.”

“You look  _ridiculous_.”

Darren pushes past him into the house, and Chris just remembers to close the door behind him.

“You say that like it’s an insult,” Darren throws back, eyebrows furrowed, and Chris snorts. “Now where would you like the beginnings of your decorations?”

“Beginnings?”

It’s then that Chris sees the large, red bag that Darren has over his shoulder. Wow, he really put a lot of effort into this.

“Wait, that’s a poinsettia, right?” Chris furrows his eyebrows as Darren sets it on the sidetable in the living room, adjusting it so that the largest flowers face outwards. “Darren, I can’t have that in my house.”

Darren looks over at him, face falling, and it would probably be more heart breaking if he wasn’t wearing a  _blinking red nose_.

“Why not?”

“Um, because they’re poisonous?”

“…Chris, you’re not supposed to eat your house plants.”

Chris whacks him on the arm.

“Not  _me_ , you dumbass,  _Brian_.” Chris looks over to where Brian is curled up and sleeping in the armchair, and Darren follows his gaze.

“Oh…” Darren’s still frowning. “Well fuck, I don’t want to like, kill your cat.” Darren picks up the plant again. “I mean, I know we don’t always see eye to eye or anything, but—”

“ _Darren_.”

“Right. Um. Can I put it in your pantry for now? I’ll take it home with me later. I already have, like, five, but you can never be too festive.”

Chris appraises his get-up again and kind of believes otherwise.

“So what exactly is in that bag of tricks you have with you?” Chris eyes it warily, unsure he wants to find out, but Darren lights up without the aid of his lit nose.

“ _Everything_ ,” Darren gushes, dropping to the ground and beginning to pull things out of it—boxes of lights, ornaments, garland, stockings, a  _wreath_. There literally is almost  _everything_.

“No tree, though. I figure we could go and get one later.”

“We?” Chris asks, voice a little quiet, and Darren grins up at him.

“It’s not fun to get a Christmas tree by yourself, or to decorate one by yourself.”

“Darren, I don’t need a Christmas tree.”

“Everyone needs a Christmas tree, don’t be a fucking idiot.” Darren doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing, and when he seems to have pulled everything out of the bag, he sits back on his knees and tosses the wreath to Chris.

“Front door!” He insists, bouncing up on his toes and nearly losing his balance. “I’ll take care of the deadly plant.”

Chris sighs in an over-dramatic, exasperated fashion, but then carries the wreath (it smells like pine, and Chris forgot how much he likes that smell) to the front of his house. There’s an actual hook on his door for things like this, but he hadn’t bothered with it last year—it’s his first house, and it’s not exactly easy to go out and buy Christmas decorations at local stores anymore. And he can’t exactly order a real wreath online (well, maybe he can, but he’d never bothered to  _look_ ). He isn’t quite sure how or where Darren got all of this, but the thought of it all makes something warm prickle in his chest.

He smiles as he hangs up the wreath.

“I am so fucking jealous that you have a fireplace,” Darren is saying when Chris walks back into the living room. “We don’t, so Joey drew one on a piece of paper and stuck it to the wall. It is the saddest fireplace in the history of fireplaces.” Darren is hanging up stockings on Chris’s fireplace as he speaks, and Chris can’t help but raise his eyebrows when he notices there’s four of them.

 _A_ ,  _B_ ,  _C_ ,  _D_.

“Where’s the rest of the alphabet?” Chris asks as he wanders over, and Darren looks at him in confusion. “A, B, C, D. Where’s the rest?”

Darren looks at the fireplace and then laughs.

“Dude, I didn’t even realize that, that’s fucking fantastic.” He grins as he hangs up the D. “It’s not the alphabet, man.  _A_  for Ashley,  _B_  for Brian,  _C_  for Chris, and…  _D_  for Darren.” He tugs on the last stocking—it’s red next to the creamy white of the  _C_ , and then looks over at Chris kind of self consciously.

“Are you really trying to trick Santa into giving you gifts at three different houses?” Chris asks, voice a little softer, and he’s still staring at the stockings.

“You can’t trick Santa, Chris. He’s fucking  _Santa_.” Darren knocks his shoulder against Chris’s and then walks away, but Chris stays by the fireplace a second longer. Ashley’s stocking is gold, and Brian’s is green, and maybe Chris should feel weird about having a stocking here for Darren but… It doesn’t feel weird. At least, not a bad kind of weird. It just makes that prickling feeling more prominent.

“ _Fuck_.”

There’s a crash, and Chris turns around, startled, to see Darren on the ground and an upturned chair beside him.

“What are you  _doing_?” Chris strides over, holding out a hand so that Darren can get up.

“Apparently killing my ass,  _fuck_.” Darren rubs at it as he stands, righting the chair and making to get on it again. Chris grabs it, and Darren flashes him a grin.

“What are you actually doing?”

“What does it look like?” Darren reaches up and tacks something into the archway, and when Chris looks up—

“Mistletoe,” Darren says, like it’s something to be proud of.

“Mistletoe,” Chris deadpans, and then stares at Darren. “Really? You are really doing that? That is so—”

“Traditional,” Darren finishes, even though they both know that’s not what Chris was going to say. He bops Chris on the nose and then hops down from the chair. “And romantic.”

“And  _cheesy_ ,” Chris butts in, but then Darren is there, hand on his face, eyes dark and intent, and—red nose blinking bright in Chris’s line of vision.

“I’m not kissing you while you’re wearing that.”

“Wanna bet?”

Chris lets out a surprised gasp as Darren’s hands drop low on Chris’s back, pulling him closer and then bringing their lips together in the same motion. Chris’s eyes shut on instinct, and, even though he can feel the plastic of the nose against his cheek, he’s distracted by the warm slide of Darren’s tongue as it enters his mouth.

“You’re insufferable,” Chris mutters as they pull apart, eyes still shut as Darren keeps them pressed together, dropping tiny kisses to the corners of his mouth, his nose, his cheeks, his jaw.

“ _Darren the red-nosed reindeer_.”

And the moment is gone.

“ _Had a very shiny nose_.”

“Darren.”

“ _And if you ever saw—mmph_.”

Chris tugs Darren back into a kiss, mumbling a, “shut up,” against Darren’s lips and feeling him grin in turn.


End file.
